


Invoke

by Witches_Britches



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cults, Dubious Consent, F/M, Magic, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 04:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18909856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witches_Britches/pseuds/Witches_Britches
Summary: Using Draco as a revenge date was exactly what Hermione needed when discovering Ron’s infidelity. Although, neither were prepared for the ancient cult that invoked the magic between them.Teaser Video: http://www.witches-britches.com/Art/Invoke_trailer_2019HD_720p.mov~wonderful aesthetic created by HeartOfAspen





	1. Purification

Purification: refers to the removal of impurities or unwanted influences, toxins, filth, negative energies, etc.

. . .

Trying to hold back her fury, Hermione hastily kept pace with Ron after they had flooed into the Ministry of Magic. She just knew he was going to avoid discussing their relationship again. Before he could step any further, she tugged on the sleeve of his coat, insisting on his attention. She had to pause before speaking due to several co-workers passing by, then seethed, "Ron, you're- I can't believe you! I just-"

"Look, Hermione.” Ron turned abruptly. “Let's not pretend you didn't notice. You notice _everything_.” He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, then faced her again, his voice straining. “Why did you go along with it for so long?"

The pressure of arguing in a public place, along with his presumptuous remark, left Hermione unable to contain the shrill of her voice. "What! How dare you assume- do you think I just _wanted_ to feel this way?"

Ron lifted his arms briefly, as if to give up, before dropping them to his sides. "Maybe! I guess it would be easier than having this fight!"

Hermione was beside herself. Somehow, Ron had managed to conclude that she would rather bicker with him than discuss the reason why her meticulous collection of books had so many missing. Books he never had any interest in reading... but what were the odds that a certain female coworker had these exact books on her desk, on more than one occasion? Had she displayed them purposely, so that when Hermione passed everyday, they would be seen? Had she _accio_ ’d them from the privacy of her home? Had Ron taken them for her? If that were true, why would Ron not simply ask to borrow them? At first, Hermione did not directly suspect Ron of bringing other witches over to her flat... that would be daring. For months, she had played out different scenarios in her mind. Anything but that...

Wracking her brain for a comeback, she took a small step away, fully aware that she should save this conversation for later. But her heart was racing, and she had become obsessed with pursuing this. "You're- Just forget this, forget everything! I wish I could _obliviate_ you!"

Offended, Ron’s shoulders sulked and he glanced around to ensure she was not overheard. "You don't mean that, 'Moine-"

Hermione stiffened, snarling at him dramatically. "I certainly do! And don’t call me that, I have _always_ hated that name!"

She didn’t usually though. Only _now,_ as it appeared her relationship with Ron was ending, did she loathe the sound of it. Her rage demanded that he was not allowed such terms of endearment, not anymore, not after he had shared his affections with another witch. At the moment, she did not want the details, knowing she would probably fall apart right there and then if she had.

Nose flaring, she waited for Ron to react but he only recoiled, peeking over at passing colleagues, each of whom had concern written on their faces. He gave her a look of pity, and it only irritated her more to think that he felt sorry for her. Then, his sympathetic stance altered, and he was peering past her. She turned to see who it was.

"Everything alright here, Granger?"

With disdain, Ron barked, "Oh, bugger off, Malfoy. Don't want to be late to work, _again_."

Malfoy clenched his jaw, taking a step past Hermione. "I wasn't talking to _you,_ Weasley."

Hermione gently extended her arm out, attempting to stop their confrontation. "Malfoy, don't, we're just… talking."  
  
Humiliated, she lowered her head, and tucked a few wisps of hair behind her ear. This work day had barely begun, and already she wanted to Disapparate from this place.

Ron sneered, "Yeah, Malfoy, sod off-"

"Ron!"

Malfoy took an aggressive step forward, causing Ron to flinch back and nearly lose his footing on a step behind him. Re-balancing himself, Ron’s eyes brimmed with anger and he quickly reached inside his coat pocket for his wand, but Hermione stepped between them. "Ron, don't- Malfoy, _it’s fine_."

Ron turned to her, shocked. "What? We're not done here, Hermione. Just because _he's_ here, doesn't mean-"

Hermione exhaled, arms crossed. "It does. Just go." Gritting her teeth, she stepped backward, closer to Malfoy.

This seemed to hit a particular nerve for Ron. "Oh, so Malfoy interrupts, and we're done now? Better him than me, I suppose!"

With a glance over at Malfoy, she realized that, though it had not been her intention to take a side, this was far better than any insult that she had been unable to conjure moments ago. She stood firm, crossing her arms tight and lifting her nose into the air. "Maybe."

As Hermione leaned closer to Malfoy, he glanced down at her, casually tucking his hands into his pockets before looking back up at Ron for his predictable reaction.

"Oh please, ‘Mione! Malfoy's a sleazy git that-"

"I _just_ said not to call me that!” she admonished. Turning abruptly to Malfoy, Hermione’s hair whipped around as she channeled all her remaining confidence, “Hey, Malfoy, like to take me on a date sometime? I happen to be free tonight."

Taken aback by the offer, Malfoy’s hands slid out of his pockets, taking a few seconds to gauge the expression on Hermione’s face at her bold offer. She tried not to look over to Ron, but knew him well enough to guess that his freckles were likely to disappear into the burning of his cheeks.

Malfoy was quick to reply, a grin forming and his last words purposely spoken directly at Ron, "Sure, Granger. I'll take you out."

Hermione gave a short nod and turned back to Ron. "There, settled."

She walked around him, ignoring his red, awestruck face. At least now she could get on with her day with a string of dignity... or so she thought.


	2. Toil and Trouble

Toil and Trouble: to work extremely hard or incessantly,   
finding difficulty along the way.

. . .

As Hermione began to walk in another direction, she was momentarily satisfied with herself. The best insult she could have bestowed onto Ron was to go out with his long-time nemesis... and hers, she supposed, though Ron had always had it out for Malfoy far more than she ever had. To her, Draco Malfoy was merely a spoiled, pureblood brat that needed a bit of growing up and whole lot of humbling to set him straight. This he had got, since his family had been ostracized after the Second Wizarding War. According to the _Daily Prophet,_ the once-proud Malfoy family had been split apart: Lucius was back in Azkaban, Narcissa had apparently taken an extended leave to the famous _La Magie_ spa in France, and Draco had left the Manor to let a flat in the city. He _had_ changed, Hermione mused, though not his appearance... he was still fit as bloody ever.

As she walked she could not help but notice that Malfoy kept close behind her. It was enough for her to glance back to see if he was going to continue following her, which apparently prompted him to speak, "I’ll pick you up later tonight. Unless you have some decree about work nights…”

Stopping short, Hermione turned, almost bumping into him. He had caught her off guard, the irritation and betrayal of Ron still brimming in her thoughts. She had already planned to take a momentary break to the ladies’ to have a bit of a cry before making it to her office.

To clear things up, she pulled Malfoy aside, away from all the passing people coming in and out of the Ministry. Many of them did a double-take, likely at the sight of seeing the two of them together at all. "Look, Malfoy, you know that was just for show? I’m not really- I just... I can’t do this right now."

"Granger, _you’re_ the one who invited me. Now that’s just rude."

Hermione clenched her fist at her side, trying to channel any unwarranted magic away from this conversation. She really thought Malfoy had been on the same page back there. Goal: annoy Ron. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she lowered her head away from prying co-workers to whisper, "Malfoy, come on. I didn't mean it. I was just-"

Not wanting to expose her delicate emotions, she attempted to find a logical way to send Malfoy away. She quickly assessed her stance, because even though she was frustrated with one wizard, that did not mean she had to be cruel to another, regardless of their past.

She was so close to leveling herself out, until he pushed, "Granger...?"

She glared into his gray eyes, finding zero sympathy for her circumstances. Did he even care? "Malfoy, I was just _using you_ , don't you get it? Aren't you accustomed to that by now?"

Clenching his jaw, Malfoy’s head rose; she guessed that her jab had been a bit too raw and truthful. Through office gossip, she knew his wealth and status had plenty of people coming to him for favors. She wondered how many friends he would have if he suddenly went broke.

Hermione felt awful as soon as the words had crept past her lips. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. I'm just-"

He crossed his arms, appearing unphased, "No, Granger, it's fine. I mean, you seem to _like_ being _abused_ by Weasley. Why don't you just scurry back to _him_?" He insultingly wafted his hands in her direction, dismissing her as if she were not more than a common house elf.

It was as if she had been punched in the gut. "What? I'm hardly _abused b_ y Ron-"

"Oh, right. He fucks around with other witches and you just let it go?” Then he mumbled just enough for her to hear, “ _Everyone knows..._ "

Hermione raised her hand to slap him, but he only winced in preparation for the blow to land. She stopped herself in time, briefly forgetting where they were. Their past aside, she had nearly slapped a coworker. Ashamed, she dropped her hand and glanced up to see if anyone had a clue as to what was happening. Her internal kettle, which she tried to always keep on a low heat, had finally gone past its percolation point. Malfoy’s comment about her relationship with Ron had hit a nerve. If everyone knew... how long? And why had no one told her?

Her eyes focused on the fireplace grates, where more and more coworkers streamed into the building. They had all suddenly become traitors, and the thought of this overwhelmed her. When tears began to prick her eyes, she tried to blink them away, turning awkwardly to find solitude in a public space.

Since when was an old school nemesis supposed to divulge that another man, a childhood friend, her so-called lover, was a cheating arsehole? But that wasn’t Ron, not really. He wasn’t truly an arsehole, and perhaps that made it all the more difficult. The thought only brought on more tears, and she tried to hide them, but she felt trapped. Her only options appeared to be; crying infront of her passing co-workers, or to Malfoy. Rationalizing that there would be less pity this way, she chose the latter.

Malfoy exhaled, gently placing his hand on her back, and she felt him shift his stance to guard her away from meddling eyes. His kindness was unexpected, seemingly by both of them because he hesitated, stumbling over his next words as if he had only just learned them yesterday. "Granger, I'm just saying… try someone else. Even if it's just me."

She was shaking and his unexpected sympathy was only making her cry harder. If someone like Draco Malfoy could pity her, it must be truly awful. The soothing musk of his cologne and the realization of how comfortable she was in the small cove of his body, snapped her out of her self-loathing. She had to  remind herself of her surroundings, she could not come off as unprofessional. Hermione Granger bawling at the workplace?

Exhaling to calm herself, Hermione sniffled a few more times, and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. She glanced up at him, curious if his offer had malicious motives, unconsciously taking a step back when she realized how close their faces were. After a second of studying him, she decided that he did not appear to be playing a cruel joke on her. His features were soft, even if it was, perhaps, a kind of charity.

The thought of spending time alone with Malfoy without either of their public personas intervening, unraveled in her mind. After all, they weren't too different: they each were hard-working, strong-willed, and intelligent. Hermione had always found him to be attractive, even though she had never admitted it to anyone, hardly even to herself.

Malfoy shifted, clearing his throat. "So… are you still... _with_ him?"

His blunt question caused her to blink, looking away from his stare. It felt too soon to ask such a thing. Then, bravely meeting his grey, curious eyes, she realized she did not know how to answer him. Was she still with Ron? She sensed his insistence radiating toward her and she stubbornly thought, _I don’t have to answer this, even if we were to go on some date._

Apparently her stalling triggered his impatience and he huffed in annoyance, which caused her to react more viciously than intended. "What’s it to _you_?"

Malfoy broke away from his protective blocking from public eyes, no doubt some sort of punishment for her comment. He stepped back and leaned against a wall, crossing his arms. "It’s simple, Granger. Are you with him, or not?"

The sudden exposure to passing colleagues forced her to choose him again, and she scrutinized his sudden change in character. How did he always manage to look so arrogantly relaxed? His only tell was his actual interest on the subject. Why should he care this much?

"Let me guess, if I say I _am_ with him, then I'm some witch who just likes to be _abused..._ ” She signed quotation marks with her fingers on the last word, reminding him that she certainly was not a victim of Ronald Weasley. “And if I'm _not_ with him, I should go on a date with you?"

Malfoy sat up, shoving his hands into his pockets. His furrowed brow revealed he was bothered that she might predict this much about him.

He stepped forward, leaning closer, his words spoken sharply for effect. "Maybe. So, what _witch_ are _you_? With him… or not?"

Hermione fumed. _Why does it have to be all or nothing?_ With a sigh, she realized that _all or nothing_ was still better than whatever Ron seemed to want, which was apparently something in-between. Clenching her jaw, she realized that maybe it was not too soon to decide. After all… Ron had a head start. A year in fact, if the missing books _he_ had little interest in, was any sort of indication.

Before she knew it, Malfoy had made a short tutting sound and pushed himself off the wall to walk away, mumbling something about denial. She turned to watch him, his profile slightly pouty as if offended by her rejection. It took her back to their school days, when Slytherin had played Gryffindor. Though it took her a second to recognize it, he looked as if he had just lost the snitch all over again.

Was he genuinely interested in her?

Her mind stumbled over what to say, or on how to call him back without creating a scene. In fact, he had nearly stepped out into a crowd of people when she urgently shouted, "Not!"

Embarrassed, she stood there, trying not to look around at the passing people who had glanced over at her in confusion. She concluded that this was all very foolish, until she turned back to his direction, and there he was, standing there and grinning back at her.

"11pm. Your place."


	3. Occult

Occult: refers to supernatural, mystical, or magical beliefs, practices, or phenomena.

. . .

Hermione paced the pavement outside her flat. It was late September, and a slight chill had crept into London so she had decided to dress modestly. That, along with the fact that she had no idea where Malfoy might be taking her at 11pm, led her to choose a jumper and jeans. He had never owled her with any details, so he would just have to accept her as she was. Besides, she reasoned, Malfoy had known her long enough. It was not as if her dressing differently would suddenly impress him.

Just as her thoughts began to linger on how he had never asked her where she lived, or if he would even show up at all, she heard something thud to the ground behind her. Startled, she turned around to see Malfoy dismounting his broom. She furiously scanned the area to see if any Muggles had seen him, but anyone walking at this time of night was hardly looking to the skies for a wizard on his broom.

Hermione crossed her arms and shook her head. "Oh no. Not flying..."

As if prepared for this response he quickly quarreled, "Come on, Granger! I'm good at this, just trust me."

Hermione had never denied his skill as a flyer, though she had never openly admitted it either. She simply did not like heights, and she’d had enough adventures and near-death experiences to last her a lifetime. "Couldn't we just Apparate?"

Malfoy began to scan the area for Muggles, urging her to hop on quickly before one suddenly turned the corner. "No. The place I’m taking you is… it just makes sense to get there the old-fashioned way."

Malfoy reached his hand out toward her and she scowled at him, despite that she was even more curious as to why a broom was apparently required.

"Look, hold on tight and- Hey! Don't look so surprised, I won't bite. You know, unless-"

Hermione quickly smacked him on the arm, not wishing to hear whatever knowing, immature comment he had been about to make.

He only laughed. "Granger, hit me all you want, but you are _going_."

Wrinkling her nose, she crossed her arms in defiance. After all, if she had just got out of a so-called abusive relationship, she was not about to let Malfoy fall into that category as well. Though in her current state, she admitted that Malfoy’s efforts did make her feel better, if only for a brief distraction from her break-up. In the last year, Ron’s inconstant affections had deflated her self-esteem and it had been awhile since any man had made her feel needed. She tried to defy the urge to eagerly hop onto his broomstick in order to have that feeling again. No, she could not appear too keen.

To her surprise, Malfoy’s voice softened. "Granger, please? I want to take you somewhere.” Looking around again, he urgently persuaded, “You'll really like it. I promise, _I won't let go of you_."

Hermione loosened her grip on her tightly tucked arms. Merlin, why wasn’t he like this all the time? It was just another thing she might never admit to him: how silky his voice sounded when he pleaded. Shoulders drooping somewhat, she outwardly appeared to sulk. Allowing a few more seconds to pass before giving in, she reached out to take his hand. _Fine_ , she thought. _I’ll climb on his broom, hold on for dear life, and pretend it’s not a big deal that I’ve never been so close to him before._

She paused before mounting behind him, just to let reality sink in. When she finally straddled the broom, her legs dangled helplessly, unable to reach the footpegs. A quick glance determined how much shorter she was than him, and she concluded that she would need to wrap her arms around his torso to keep steady.

The second her hands met around his front, the broom bucked upward and she squeezed her eyes tight, trying not to squeal. Convinced her stomach had Apparated to another location completely, her head was nearly buried into Malfoy’s lower shoulder. It was only when his back arched slightly in response that she realized it might have bothered him. She took a deep breath, as the breeze trailed the musk of his cologne in her direction.

When she dared to open her eyes, Hermione saw that they were already flying far above the city, the lights of which were beginning to fade into the distance as they flew further out. It was just her and Malfoy, soaring through the clear night sky, far away from everything... and she was surprised to find she liked it.

Once they had cleared both the city and the shadows of the rolling countryside, he began to slow the broom over the top of a forest. As he steered the broom lower, she tightened her grip for the descent. Unexpecting the warmth of his palm over her clenched hands, her heart began to pound, and she found herself wondering if he could feel it thumping out of her chest against his back. It was more intimate than she was ready for, but at the same time she found herself disappointed that their flight was about to end.

Lifting her head to scan the area as they descended, Hermione noticed a full moon to the east with a slight pinkish hue to it. Distracted by it, she lost her balance, causing the broom to wobble. They began to sway and dip dramatically so that Draco had to release her hand to level them out. Her breath staggered as she clamped against him in fear of falling. Feeling his muscles tense, she guessed that he was glancing back at her. Though he did not say anything, she suspected he would taunt her later for this one.

Trying not to rock the broom again, she only peeked down, able to make out an opening in the woods surrounded by tall stones and with a large bonfire in the center. Anything else was too small to make out, and she was far too nervous to tidy her tousled hair to see better while pinned against Malfoy’s back for safety.

As he adjusted the direction of the broom, the wind released the hairs from her face and she could see that Malfoy had avoided landing near the bonfire, instead lowering them to the edge of the deep forest. When he turned back to look at her, she realized he was waiting for her to get off the broom. She quickly retracted her hands from his waist, swearing she heard him snicker. Carefully dismounting, she was happy to find the safety of the ground under her feet again.

Trying to recover from her blunder and hoping to avoid his mockery, she queried, "You took me to a forest?"

"Shh, we need to be quiet." He appeared to lower his head slightly as he dismounted, grabbing his broom and walking off briskly behind a grouping of trees. Hermione glanced around to collect her surroundings before following. After about five minutes of accompanying him silently from one group of trees to another, they had finally got closer to the large bonfire in the clearing she had seen from above. This is where he slowed to a pause.

Curiously, she furrowed her eyebrows, whispering, "Malfoy, what is this-?"

Instead, he took her hand and led her to sit in the grass in front of a fallen tree, just behind the rest of the treeline. They were still a good distance from the large fire burning in the opening of the wood and she wondered why it felt like they were hiding from whatever was happening there. Was this some sort of snogging spot? Did he not know her at all? _Perhaps that’s why he was so pushy..._

Her mind strayed to darker thoughts until from the corner of her eye, she saw silhouettes of figures begin to gather around the fire. As they approached the light, she could see brief highlights of the faces of both witches and wizards, though the tall hoods of their cloaks were so large it shadowed most of their faces. Skeptically, she glanced at Malfoy, but he was too focused on the event unfolding before them.

From where she sat closely beside him, Hermione slightly nudged against his body when she leaned in to whisper, "Is this an _occult gathering_?"

Malfoy, too, leaned toward her, nodding. "My parents used to take me here, to watch from afar. I was too young to take part.” He glanced skyward, and Hermione followed his gaze. “Tonight is a blood moon, they invoke the spirits-"

"Like the ancient witches and wizards..." Hermione cut him off, too exhilarated to recall her manners. They were hiding in the night, secretly witnessing a ceremony and she felt young and daring again. It had been nearly a decade since she had done anything she was not supposed to. After the war, everyone had diligently finished school and she made her way into a career. Without the threat of a dark lord hanging over her, she had been happy to have some sort of normalcy again.

As one leading member of the cult stepped out of line from the rest, she concluded that the ceremony was beginning. Neither she nor Malfoy could hold back passing inquisitive thoughts between them while pointing at objects that the cult used, or analyzing the magical incantations being spoken. Hermione could not contain her excitement. She had always wanted to attend these sort of gatherings, but had never known where they actually took place.

Arms hanging over his propped-up knees, Malfoy lowered his head to rest on his forearms while peeking over at her. She glanced over to find him smirking against the wrinkle of his jumper, clearly amused by her. "I thought you'd enjoy something _educational.”_ Then he faced back to the ceremony, his chin on his arm, mumbling, “ _Even on a date_."

Hermione stiffened, giving him a brief side-glance. She had momentarily forgotten that she was on a date. Other than her near-fall off his broom and until he had reminded her just now, she had been completely at ease sitting next to him exchanging their knowledge on ancient ceremonies. She bit her lip, trying to hide her sudden nervousness while thinking of something to say to cut the silence. "Hmm, I should have taken note from everyone else... _used_ you sooner."

For emphasis, she nudged him softly, concerned that her tease had been a bit disparaging, even from her. Though the way his leg lingered against hers, she concluded that he was not bothered by her jest. Still, she tried to translate his cool expression as he kept his stare firmly on the flickering bonfire that the cult members were now cavorting around.

Hermione tried to pay attention to the dancing witches and wizards, but instead found her focus on Malfoy’s hand, which was on his knee in reflection of hers, nearly touching. She found herself analyzing his character, impressed that he had delved into the details of ancient rituals, just as she had. She supposed he must have had hobbies and interests aside from his diligence at the Ministry. Did anyone else know this side of him, or was this a private interest he did not often share with others?

She unconsciously compared him to Ron, who would never want to sit like this and would pester her to leave, along with vaguely offensive comments about his boredom. They always ended up going to some Quidditch match, or to any event amongst a large group friends. She suspected that he had done this to avoid her, just as he had only given her quick pecks on the cheek, too busy to even plan a holiday together. It turned out that he had simply not known how to end their relationship.

Hermione peeked up at Malfoy, wondering if he would string her along for the sake of her feelings. She decided that, no, he would _tell_ her. It was not his style to be _polite_ about such things. Only now was there something very appealing about that. Suddenly, she felt a pang of guilt for the fact that this date had only originated from getting back at Ron, because any hint of revenge was now forgotten.

Just then, Malfoy turned to look at her and they both hastily looked away. Hermione felt heat swell within her. This was real. This was a genuine date with Draco Malfoy.

It struck Hermione that she had not even informed Ginny about this date. _That_ was how disconnected she had been about it all. It hardly mattered that Ginny was Ron’s sister, she was her best friend. Everything was happening so fast, and she’d had so many emotions to work out that day. Having assumed this date with Malfoy was casual, she had not even bothered to call her best girl friend for advice on what to do, or what to wear. _Good Godric_ , _what am I wearing, a jumper and jeans?_ Her face grew hot at the thought of her plain, simple undergarments, but she stopped herself. Why did she even imagine that things would go so far?

Her updated perspective made her feel like anything could actually happen here. _Will we hold hands... kiss? Maybe he’ll just be a gentleman and take me home? Does he do this sort of thing with other witches?_

Attempting not to let her mind spiral, she closed her eyes for a second, trying to steady her breathing so she could focus back on the ceremony. When she opened them again, she fixed her eyes on the new scene that had appeared out of nowhere. Two figures had stepped onto some sort of wooden platform in front of the bonfire. Where had that appeared from? Were her thoughts so distracting that she had missed this detail? Maybe they had conjured it? Then, her concerns about the platform were pushed aside as she witnessed the two figures climb atop it and without hesitating, let their robes fall to their feet. From what she could tell, they were not young, their movements slow as the flames from the bonfire highlighted the full flesh of their bodies. The woman’s frame was small aside from her large, drooping breasts; her wavy, white hair draped well past her buttocks. The man was tan, his hair graying with a wispy long beard to match, and he carried most of his weight in his belly.

The rest of the cloaked figures chanted in another language that Hermione could not decipher. Once they ceased, the two figures stood a bit straighter, their backs no longer slightly hunched with age. Somehow, they now appeared slightly more spritely, and presently, they turned toward each other and began to embrace in a kiss.

Before Hermione knew it, the wizard was lying down on his back and the witch was straddling him.

Hermione looked suspiciously over at Malfoy, who shifted uncomfortably. He peeked over, shrugging, as he defended, "What? I've never been to a _blood moon_ ceremony. This must be part of it..."

"So your parents didn't think to take you to _this_ one,” she responded sarcastically. “Go figure."

Malfoy pinched his lips into a smile and she shoved his shoulder, wondering if he was lying. He swayed against her nudge and sat upright again, and the two of them began to sneer playfully at each other. However, both their faces stiffened when they heard loud moans echoing from the forest clearing. Perhaps the couple were not as elderly as she had imagined. Both their eyes grew wide, and despite the cool air, Hermione suddenly felt hot.

Turning curiously back to the ceremony, she found that not only was the couple moaning as they thrusted into each other, but the robed silhouettes surrounding them were repeating their sounds. The figures swayed as if experiencing the same sensations as the couple on the platform.

Mortified, Hermione tried to keep a straight face. Meanwhile, Malfoy pestered, "Never _watched_ before, huh, Granger?"

She looked over at him. "No, I certainly have not. Have _you_?”

Malfoy adjusted his arms, shifting his legs. "No... does that surprise you?"

She shrugged, lifting her head high to study him. "A little..."

A sweep of cold air brushed through the forest around them, causing the leaves of the trees to shiver and Hermione's hair to blow to one side. Ahead, the flames from the bonfire had flickered with the wind, along with the witch on the platform’s wildly long, white hair. It now covered her face as she continued to bounce rhythmically atop the wizard between her thighs.

Hermione’s heart began to race and even with of the heated sexual ceremony before her, the night’s temperature began to noticeably drop.

Malfoy must have noticed her tucking in her legs, because he grabbed his wand and whispered a warming spell. She guessed he was insisting that they stay by keeping her comfortable, regardless of how awkward it may be. Either way, the spell did not cast. He tried again, but nothing changed and her nose began to ache from the bite of cold.

Malfoy looked up at her, then over to the ceremony. “They must be blocking spells.”

Hermione buried her nose into her arms, clutching her knees, and wondered how far the radius was for magic-blocking charms at such a ceremony.

Without a word, he scooted closer to her, causing her to smile into her arm as she adjusted her position slightly. As she shifted, her foot pressed against a stick, snapping it in half. The timing of this, being between the brief seconds the couple had paused from their pleasurable moaning, was horrible.

The sound of the chanting wavered, as if the crack of the twig had disrupted their rhythm completely. One member held up their arm for the group to stop, and even the couple on the platform paused in their fervor. The cult members leaned in to one another to whisper, and some raised their arms to point in the direction where Hermione and Malfoy were sitting.

Hermione’s heart dropped, and she glanced over to Malfoy to see if he was concerned. She tried to rationalize that the gathering would likely conclude the noise to be some animal in the woods, but her adrenaline rose as the couple on the platform began separate and stand up, hastily redressing in their cloaks.

It could have been anything, right? So why were they walking toward them with their wands?

Malfoy seized Hermione’s arm and before she knew it, he had pulled them both up to stand, tugging at her sleeve as he pressed, "Run."  
  
Hermione stumbled to her feet, only making more noise amongst the rustling leaves. "What?"

Malfoy tugged at her hip, leaning down to pick up his broom and pushing her in the direction of the forest, admonishing, "Just run!"

As they ran, she heard something thump to the ground, like a heavy branch hitting the forest floor. A swift look at Malfoy concluded that he was no longer carrying his broom. Why couldn’t they Apparate or fly away? Was all of the forest enchanted? Is this why he had flown them in from another area and they’d had to walk? Had the cult put the enchantments in place _after_ they had arrived? She guessed that Malfoy would not have abandoned his broom if were any use. His free hand found hers, tugging it to move them both faster.

Hermione began to pick up her pace, all while her mind brimmed with questions. Was it really so bad to witness a cult ceremony? After all, they were a part of the magical community. Malfoy’s parents had even brought him here before. Was there a punishment for this?

Panicked, they swiftly weaved between trees only by the light of the blood moon. As they ran from one bit of streaming light to the next on the forest floor, the cool air began to sting Hermione’s lungs.

Malfoy soon slowed and jerked at her arm to hide them behind the trunk of a large tree. They were both breathing hard, gulping air as quietly as they could. Hermione leaned against the tree to rest, but as she turned to question Malfoy, she instantly became frustrated by strands of her hair clinging to the shaggy tree bark. She winced as she threaded them out, irritated at how this so-called date was going.

After their breathing had steadied somewhat, they both dared to peek around the tree, listening for anyone who might have followed. Confidently, Malfoy exhaled. "Okay, I think we're good."

Hermione crossed her arms, leaning her face toward him so that even in the darkness he could witness her scowl. "There’s a punishment for being here, isn’t there, Malfoy?"

He leaned back against the tree, grinning down at her. "Order of Merlin only, so… most definitely."

She shook her head in disapproval, but as she stood next to him in the dark, her concerns began to dissipate. They had got away, so what was the harm? If she were honest, it was exhilarating. She had not realized how much she missed such adventures. "Well, I enjoyed it..."

He stood up straighter, seeming surprised. "Really? I was sure you were about to-"

He paused at the sound of leaves rustling in the distance. Hermione attempted to hold her breath, sidling closer to him as if it might hide her better. In doing so, she stepped up on what must have been a large tree root, gaining height closer to Malfoy. Her adrenaline spiked again so that she hardly noticed how easily his hand slipped into hers, while his other arm slid across her lower back, guiding her to move further behind the tree.

The forest was quiet now, except for Malfoy steadying his breath. Her eyes strained to study the space around them for anything unusual, only glancing away when he reached for his wand. When he whispered to cast a Muffliato charm, she wondered if they were far enough outside of the ceremony’s boundaries to use magic.

There was a sinking feeling that his spell had not worked when he flourished his wand again. Reflecting on how far they had run, and who they were running _from_ she wondered, _what charms could deceive a cult of Merlin?_

Still in thought, she happened to look up at him, meeting his eyes. He was gazing back at her and did not budge. Only then did she realize how tightly she was holding onto his arm, how close she was to him.

Not able to challenge his gaze, she loosened her grip and took a small step back, forgetting the large tree root she had been standing on, and nearly rolling her ankle in her fumble. As he helped balance her, Malfoy’s arm wrapped further around her back. She tried to politely smile and plant her feet flat on the ground, but feeling shy, she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear but they retaliated, the curls bouncing right back against her cheek again.

Feeling his touch on her chin, she peeked up at him to find he was attempting to tame her hair back like she had. He was more successful. Then his fingers purposely trailed back down her cheek, sending goosebumps down her neck. Her sight adjusted well enough to the dark by now, she could see he was peering at her lips.

When she inched back nervously, she felt the tips of his fingers connect with hers. His voice sounded dismayed from her move when he murmured, "Granger..."

Hermione looked down for a second, at where his fingers were woven through hers. Under her breath, she whispered, " _Draco...?_ "


	4. Cauldron Bubble

Cauldron Bubble: the process of using a cast iron pot over an open flame, causing the liquid within to percolate.

. . .

Hermione’s heart pulsed as she spoke his name. Even the soft whisper of it felt like a confession. She tried to remember the last time she had ever said it out loud... certainly not in front of co-workers, and especially not to him. That would imply they were friends, or more. When had either of them acknowledged that they could be more than even _that_?  

She found it difficult to look up, the intensity between them obvious. Unsure how far she was willing to go, she had a hard time finding any other excuse as to why her body naturally leaned closer, and worried that the tightening of her grip might have been too overt. The open air in the woods made her feel free, like she was allowed to follow her instinct rather than apply general rules on what was supposed to happen on first dates. Still unable to commit to a decision, she hoped for a moment longer to decide.

But of course, Draco had no intention of waiting. "Still feel like _using_ me tonight?"

Hermione grinned at his play on her teasing from earlier. Assuming he was merely jesting, she attempted to play along. "I bet you'd love that wouldn't you, _Malfoy_?"

She expected his usual banter in return, but instead he mumbled, "No. I'd prefer that you _meant_ it."

He looked up at her hesitantly and she recognized that this admission was difficult for him. Belatedly, she realized how sultry his original offer to use him had been. There was no jesting here. She studied him and found that the usually confident wizard appeared apprehensive. Before he could retract this hidden sensitive side, Hermione reached up to his cheek, as if she could hold his emotions there, just where they were.

"Really?"

Draco began to lean his cheek into her hand. "Think I'd take just _anyone_ to something like this… with all the possibility of getting caught?"

Hermione’s hand slowly slid from his cheek back to his hairline, her nerves unable to commit to anything past small talk. "I have to admit, I was expecting you to take me to a fancy restaurant. Isn't that what all you high-society wizards do?"

His eyes narrowed in on her, leaning closer. "I'd take you anywhere if you asked me to, Granger."

A heave of breath pushed past her lips at his words. She had not expected this sort of surrender from him. Her fingers knitted through the hair at the back of his head, barely speaking, " _Yeah?_ "

Draco nodded gently, leaning closer to sweep his nose past hers. It felt like an eternity, suspended there; the burning between them was unbearable. She could not take it anymore… one more breath, and her lips pressed against his.

Now she was somewhere else, softly against his lips while both his hands slowly slid around her waist. He pulled away for a second, his thumb edging her lips and he leaned in slower this time. Her mouth ajar, she soon felt the tip of his tongue skimming her lips and her mind was empty of everything but the urge to taste him. The silk of his tongue teasing hers and the low moan that followed, made her pulse between her thighs.

Draco’s arms tightened around her waist, abruptly turning her back against the tree. Releasing a throaty squeal at this rearrangement, her lips only broke away from him for a moment before she pulled him closer to continue. This was the Draco Malfoy she had expected, and perhaps this was exactly what she needed, a good pin against a tree.

As Draco leaned into her, his thigh wedged between hers. Not caring if it was too far, she pressed her center against him, the tree bark digging into her back, urging her to be wild and free. He moaned and flexed his thigh up against her in return. Allowing her body to react to his, she wrapped her leg around his hip and he moaned into the crook of her neck, momentarily interrupting his barrage of kisses there. Her head fell back against the tree as he continued, she forgave it this time for tangling her locks. Maybe it was trying to tell her something: _Stay, you need this._

Admittedly, she did. She needed a man to need her this way. All the better that he was a broodingly handsome wizard who was fantastic at kissing.

Eyes glazed over from the fervor of the kisses he was peppering down her neck, she elongated herself to encourage it. Opening her eyes, she peered up the long silhouette of the tree above, stretching up to meet the starry sky. It reminded her of how late the hour was, and how erotic it was to be out in the wilderness this way. There was no one out here to judge their relationship or what they were jumping into so hastily.

Just as she had resolved that, yes, she would do whatever she wanted with Draco Malfoy tonight, she became distracted by the smell of smoke and burning wood.

Leaning up slightly, Hermione abruptly stiffened when she noticed a small beacon of light ahead of her. She furiously patted Draco’s shoulder to get his attention, mumbling out, “Merlin.”

Misinterpreting her euphemism, he hummed in reply as his hands began to trail down her hips. She had to grab his arms to stop him, and he finally paused. One look at her face made him turn to see what she was focused on. In and out like fireflies, small flames flickered between the trees, multiplying and growing larger as they approached.

Draco turned to block Hermione between himself and the tree as the flames steadied into a semi-circle around them. They could now see that they were the same cloaked figures from the ceremony.

The cult had found them.

Draco reached for his wand, but paused when he noticed one figure already pointing their own wand aggressively at the pair. "Looks like we found our next volunteers."

Hermione gripped Draco’s arm as the slow drawl of the man’s voice reverberated in her mind. What did he mean by it?  

Draco managed to croak out, "What do you want? We didn't- we can just leave..."

Overwhelmed, Hermione scanned the figures and quickly realized that she and Draco were no match for all of them. Would they turn them in? Would they get reprimanded at work for the interruption of an ancient event?

A burly voice cut through the silence, though Hermione could not figure out which ominous cloak it had come from. "You have taken witness to _our_ ceremony. Join her and be one."

Hermione’s heart raced, questioning the meaning again. They could not be serious; this had to be some sort of act. Draco shook his head nervously at the cloaked figures, which only made her more anxious. Why was he so shaken? What did he know?

Draco clenched Hermione’s arm as he tried to argue, "What? No, we’re just- we've only-"

Before he could finish, two figures swiftly marched up to them, casting a spell to disarm them. Hermione’s fingers floundered in the empty air as her wand floated into the waiting hand of a cult member. Aggressively, the Order of Merlin grabbed them both, pushing them back into the direction of the ceremony.


	5. Offering

Offering: a gift or contribution, usually to gain favor to a higher,   
more powerful being.

. . .

Hermione tried to walk close to Draco, while a wand was digging hard into her back. Adrenaline kicking in, her mind frantically reasoned, _It's only a ceremony, they aren't sacrificing humans or anything... right?_

She looked over at Draco, who was already looking back at her and shaking his head in apology.

They could feel the heat of the bonfire once they cleared the treeline and approached the ceremony site. The rest of the cloaked cult members were there, evidently waiting in quiet patience since the disturbance. Their captors guided the two of them up to the wooden platform, the nudge of wands still in their backs, and they stepped up to it, keeping close to one another. Hermione felt helpless without her wand, until Draco grabbed her hand.

Begging now, Draco shouted out to the dark figures surrounding them, "We aren't a part of this. We're sorry for intruding. We'll go and never speak of it-"

A cult member step forward, flicking their hand out toward him and the sound of his voice was clipped off into silence. Draco lurched forward as if he had been gutted and Hermione leaned over in concern.   
  
"Silence! In the name of Merlin, the Order invokes the spirit of the blood moon."

Hermione glanced up the the abrupt announcement over the crackling fire, then back down to inspect Draco. She was unsure if the wandless magic had only silenced him or if something else had been done. Thankfully he was breathing, though attempting his best to speak again. Quietly clearing her throat to check, she found that apparently the spell had not been cast on her. Simultaneously, her mind was reeling with what they could possibly want from them, or what else they would do. She hoped this was all a farce, to teach them a lesson.

The cult began to close in on them, until they collectively turned their bodies directly toward Hermione, speaking in unison. "The Mother Goddess senses your readiness."

Hermione cowered back, glancing at Draco over the implications of such a statement, but he only shook his head in confusion. Looking toward the hooded figures, it dawned on her as to what they had meant and she felt a flush of heat rush to her face. The members had their hands cupped, as if to ask for a donation. She gulped, remembering the crude event from before. _Do they mean? How could they know-_

Bowing slightly, the cult chanted together, "The Mother Goddess shall feel your pleasure, and we shall all be rewarded."

Hermione was sure she was about to take Draco’s arm off from gripping it so tightly. Horrified, she scanned the cloaks, panicked that one of them might be a man preparing to disrobe. The ceremony they had witnessed earlier had not been in English, but she assumed they were willing volunteers. Filtering through her past studies, she tried to remember things about magical cult gatherings, but had no recollection of this, and she thought maybe it was not something put in the books offered at Hogwarts. Or rather, perhaps this topic of literature was locked away in the restricted section.

The cult members began to chant, "Oblation... oblation... oblation..."

Hermione knew exactly what that meant: she had become an offering. She quickly turned to Draco to see if he understood as well. He looked back at her with fear in his eyes. Her expression must have appeared all too obvious, because a cult member stepped even closer to her, and though they kept their head low, the voice appeared gentle this time as they gestured to Draco. "He is to pleasure you, and we are to take witness."

The figure then moved back into line and they all began to walk in a slow circle around them, chanting more incantations. Hermione glanced to Draco, trying to find relief in the fact that it was not some strange man they were to match her with. Still, how could they allow anyone that was not a true volunteer to proceed here? In her stress, Hermione tried to pick apart the Latin, only catching certain phrases to do with keeping the circle and pleasuring the Goddess. Her heart was selfishly taking all the blood from her brain, struggling to keep up with the speed with which it pulsed. She looked past the circle, out into the woods. The trees were little help, hiding the event like a privacy wall. Was there no way out of this?

Hermione peeked up at Draco, the firelight throwing shadows over the deep worry lines on his forehead. Everything was all happening so fast. Sure, she had nearly engaged in a lust-filled moment with him only moments ago in the woods, but now this was a potion brewed far too long. Who were these people, anyway? They could be professors from Hogwarts for all she knew. _No, any professor would stop this if they knew who we were, right?_

Her hands climbed up his arm, tugging at him in desperation. "Draco?"

He held her hand tightly, trying to step off of the platform, but there was some sort of barrier, and she too could not cross it. Looking down, she noticed markings that she had not seen from before when they had been mere observers, back in the woods. There were ancient markings and symbols etched into the wood within the encompassing pentagram. She thought to decipher them, but under the circumstances, she could not concentrate on them just now.

The cult stopped their circling, now standing with their hands aimed toward the sky as they began a new type of chant:

 _"Hail, blood moon, upon this night, send her pleasure and mine delight._   
_Hail, Goddess, thrice we turn, thirsty chalice, fire burn._ _  
_Hail, souls, invoke her sight, veil her heart in crimson light."

Hermione paused, feeling an internal jolt while a warm sweep of wind passed over her body. This was not the heat of the bonfire, nor the sweat palmed in  the grip of Draco’s hand. Scanning the area, the tepid breeze did not appear to lift the fabric of cloaks or rustle the tops of trees. Had anyone else felt it? Meanwhile, the chanting began to lull her into a different state of mind. The stress she had been harboring melted away and instead, it was as if she had just arrived, exhilarated by the ceremony. Taking in a deep lungful of the crisp, night air, Hermione was overtaken by a completely different perspective...


	6. Possessed

Possession: roused by a strong feeling, madness, or a supernatural power.

. . .

Draco opened his mouth to try to speak again. In a mere instant, Hermione’s entire demeanor had completely altered. Casually, she rolled her neck and stretched as if preparing for something. Most notably, he found it out-of-character for her to blatantly ogle another person as if they were her next conquest, which in this instance, appeared to be him. She disconnected from his side, stepping back, holding his hand up high as she sized him up from head to toe. Her grin was foreboding and he broke eye contact when she began to circle him. Humming her approval, she faced him again.

Draco was appalled when she began to slip off her heavy jumper, so he reached out for her to stop. This did not give her pause and she continued to pull it over her head, along with the shirt she had under it. Catching her jumper in midair, Draco tried to stop her from tossing more of her clothing aside, handing it back to her for the sake of her modesty. His verbal attempts were still useless as he frantically gestured for her to put her clothing back on.

A moment later, the tips of her fingers pressed onto his lips, shushing his silent protest. His eyes widened at her new and carefree attitude regarding their predicament. As Hermione’s fingers made contact with his lips, she was briefly entranced by them before kissing him hard and fast. He pulled back, daunted, as he glanced around at the surrounding cult members.

Tilting her head to study him, Hermione kicked off her shoes and began to unbutton her jeans. As she bent to pull them down, Draco silently begged her not to, shaking his head and mouthing for her to stop. He tried to think of how to keep her from completely undressing, but she appeared blissful, running her hands across her own body. There was a sinister confidence about her that he had never seen before.

Fingers skimming the hem of her knickers, she paused to finally acknowledge Draco’s concern. The flames of the fire glowed in her eyes, and as she approached him, she grazed her fingers gently across his cheek as if to calm him. Leaning into his ear to speak over the cult chanting, "Draco, don't you want me? Take me, I'm yours."

Draco exhaled as she pressed against him and nibbled at his earlobe. He tensed, so she placed her palm over his chest, sliding her hand past his torso until she met the buckle of his trousers.

Not expecting her bold reach, he flinched back, shaking his head at her. Hermione pushed out her bottom lip, pouting. "Draco, please, _I need you_.” She continued to meddle with his buckle. “You won't regret it."

His eyebrows lifted and his mouth opened in awe. Appearing offended by his lack of want for her, she placed her hands on his forearms, petting them gently before sliding down to his hands and guiding them toward his belt. It was clear that she was urging him to undress himself, to give him some sort of control. He scanned past her, again at the circling cult members. What had they done to her? Was this what _she_ really wanted?

Focusing back on her, he wondered if she had been wordlessly Imperiused, or if there was some other ominous sorcery happening. His hands remained on his belt when she let go of him to unclasp her bra. Casually dropping it to the platform, she did not waste time in peeling off her knickers and kicking them aside.

Trying not to gawk at her, or the small freckle on the side of her soft, perky breast, he was ashamed at how quickly his trousers grew taut from his arousal, especially since he suspected that she was under a spell. He concluded this rather than accepting that some Goddess was channeling through her, though either way, he did not feel right about it. Draco glanced to the cult members again and was unsurprised to find they were not bothered by her nudity. At least not obviously, as he was only met with dark shadows for faces. Looking back at her, Hermione had begun to grope herself, pressing her palms under each breast. Satisfied, she then began to slide her hands lower until her fingers slipped between the small dark patch of hair between her legs. He could not bear it anymore. Was it her, or wasn’t it? Were they really going to do this? Hadn’t it gone too far?

Seeming to catch his stare, Hermione took a moment to stop her obsession with her own body. She stepped forward against him again. "Draco, it’s okay, it's me. I want this. I want… _you_."

Draco studied her closely, chastising himself for considering it. He tried to stand firm, but she began to persuade his hands, pressing them against his buckle, pestering him to undress. What was he doing? Was he really about to reject Hermione Granger? The very witch he was never meant to touch? He did not deserve her, she was too... good. _No… this isn’t rejection, it’s respect_ , he argued with himself.

Of course it was completely erotic, this sort of voyeurism going on, but this was also Hermione Granger, or he hoped it still was. His only real goal for tonight had been to make a change in their relationship, to see where it could go. There was already a victory in the fact that they had kissed, but now, she was moving with the vitality of a firebolt. He wished he could say something, ask her all of the things swirling in his mind. Either way, he could not hold onto a single thought; his arousal winning out.

Her hands were on his face, trying to bring his focus onto her instead of the row of faceless robes chanting all around them. "Look at me, it's just _us_. You... and me… close your eyes."

Draco stared at her, trying to decide whether this was really how they wanted to start this relationship. _Some first date_ . _Does she really want this, me?_

He must have been very good at his non-verbal expressions, or else she actually _was_ some all-knowing Goddess witch, because she nodded in answer his inner thoughts. Then, she smiled and took his hand to touch her breast. He shuddered at the contact and his cock twitched, _this is happening._

She quickly kissed his lips, guiding his hands around her bare waist, and he began to feel too hot for his own clothing. His arms tingled anywhere they touched her skin and he struggled to hold back this carnal pull toward her. A moment later, when she broke their kiss, it felt as if the leash holding back his libido snapped as he suddenly jerked her closer to him.

Swiftly, his mouth smashed hard onto hers, unable to get enough. Her scent was more intoxicating than before. Consumed by it, he hungrily began to devour kisses down her neck. There was no stopping him now. When she reached down to finally unbuckle his trousers, thrusting them down his legs aggressively, he rushed to kick off his socks and shoes, then his own jumper. All were flung somewhere--he did not care. There was an aura of freedom about the air, while the cult chanting became a kind of background encouragement rather than a hindrance.

She pulled down on his neck as she bent her knees. In this non-verbal grip he knew what she wanted and obediently followed her lower onto the platform. Continuing to kiss her, he lay by her side as she wrapped her leg around him, squeezing his hip tight. It was as if they were in some other world, the distant chanting encouraging him to be free and wild.

He rolled to hover over her, his arms haloed around her head, pressing against the wood platform to prop himself up. She spread her legs to allow him between her, the heat of her center now flush against his skin.

Draco trailed succulent kisses down her chest until he met her breasts, and she hummed, "Take _us,_ Draco. _We_ want to be pleasured."

He gazed at her laying underneath him, glowing in the firelight. He had so many urges, he could not think of which to unleash first.


	7. Tongue of Dog

Tongue of Dog: the fleshy muscular organ in the mouth of a mammal, for tasting, quenching thirst, and occasionally used as an ingredient in a   
magical potion.

. . .

Entranced by her body, Draco moved lower, his hands sliding down her ribcage, thumbs slipping over her breasts. As he continued lower, past her waist, then her hips, she arched her back until her body met his. Kneeling, he lifted her leg and cupped her heel as he pressed hot kisses all the way up to her inner thigh. She lay there, breathing deeply, her arms over her head, peeking up at him, ready.

He gazed at her as she slid her leg against his waist. With a smirk, she spread her other leg, and the mere sight of pink flesh between her thighs caused his erection to swell even more. Swallowing hard, though not able to speak anything anyway, he allowed the chanting to keep the pace of his heart. Draco’s arousal pressed against his boxers, the only piece of clothing he still had on, so he shifted and slid them off.

His hardened flesh, free from its restraints, was a relief. As he pressed his member against her leg, his eyes found her watching him; she was biting her lip and fondling her own breasts. The fire nearby cracked and popped as a breeze passed through the forest. He could hear the treetops swaying, mimicking the soft sound of rain between the continuous chanting:

_"...send her pleasure and mine delight."_

Hermione arched her back again, her leg caressing his hip, urging him to come closer, all while she reached down to her center, sliding her fingers across her fleshy pink folds.

"Please, Draco, take _us, we are yours_."

Draco exhaled deeply when he heard her beg. His erection hard, he stroked it up and down against the softness of her inner thigh before positioning himself so that he was bowing low onto his knees, aggressively wrapping her legs around his shoulders. Then, like a vampire to blood, he gripped her arse and slammed his lips into her inner thigh. His teeth grazed her flesh between kisses, and she whimpered as he continued up to her center.

Bracing her hips as he moved closer, he eagerly slid his tongue over the length of her center. The hitch of her breath was reward enough, and he mouthed the word ‘fuck’, though no one could hear it. She slid her hands down his forearms, digging her nails into his skin, using this leverage to pull his body closer to hers and urging him to do it again.

Then the chanting altered and instead of words, the cloaked figures began to mimic every sigh, moan, and whimper Hermione uttered.

As Draco continued to feast between her thighs, Hermione's hips began to rock against his hot tongue, pushing hard against him. Her panting quickened, along with the cult surrounding them.

Draco silently groaned between her legs, reveling in the taste of her, tightening his grip on her thighs as she bucked against his mouth. Now he knew what Hermione Granger was made of, and it was sublime.

He flashed back to every moment she had bent to pick up a quill, or when her skirt had slid up her leg when she sat down at meetings. Anytime they had a heated argument and her cheeks burned red, he liked to imagine that was how she would look while fucking him. But, in all his fantasies about her, he had never imagined it would be like this.

He was now quite sure there was another _otherworldly_ _being_ within her, as he could hear the difference in her speech. One was demanding, one soft: "Don't stop!" and "Oh, Draco..."

Finally, her hips trembled between his arms and she let out a loud wail that echoed into the sky. All at once, the cult matched the sounds of her ecstasy as if experiencing her pleasure as well.

Draco continued to kiss her pulsing center until he felt a tingling against his lips, which surged through his shoulders, past his torso, and went straight to his groin. His mouth fell open, gripping her legs tightly from the immense pleasure that had just shocked his whole body. He glanced down toward his own arousal, assuming he had just climaxed, but found he had not. How was that possible? What had just happened?

Trying to balance himself, Draco lifted his head to peek up at her. Hermione was still on her back and writhing with pleasure. He looked down at her center, to kiss it again. This time, he could taste her sweet releases trickling down and he could not control the need to lap it up like a thirsty dog.

Hermione’s hips jerked slightly and she let out a manic cackle, causing Draco to pause and look up at her. She was sitting up on her elbows and watching him, her breasts rising and falling heavily from her exertion. Then her head fell back to stare up at the pink moon; he followed her gaze into the night sky.

He expected that maybe the ceremony was over now, but immediately concluded otherwise when she suddenly pounced, pinning him hard against the platform.


	8. Magic

Magic: the use of means, such as charms or spells, believed to have supernatural power over natural forces.

. . .

Hermione’s strength was unexpected as she slammed Draco flat on his back against the platform. Even as she straddled him from above, he yearned to savor her again. He had never tasted anything so gratifying.

She bent to kiss his chest, down his torso, and he silently moaned as she moved lower, the peaks of her breasts sweeping past his arousal. Hermione licked his cock and moved to take him deep into her mouth. His head dropped back, thudding onto the wood platform. His subsequent moan was so loud, it appeared to have cracked through the silencing charm and he was able to hear his voice again.

She pressed her nails into his thighs, taking him in and out past her lips; he knew he wasn’t going to last long. Pausing to crawl over him in an almost predatory manner, Hermione mounted his hips and lowered herself onto him. A groan erupted from his lips as the tip of his cock slid into the warmth of her center. He expelled a quick breath of pleasure, not having expected that to happen so soon. It was pure ecstasy. Then, more focused, he moved his hands up her thighs and gripped her hips to pull her down harder onto him.

Hermione moaned loudly, up and into the sky, while the blaze of the fire highlighted the curves of her body making the stars above her appear dull in comparison. The cloaked figures sounded as if they, too, were enjoying Draco within them as well. Her knees pushed against the platform and lifted herself up and onto him, over and over again, letting out gasps of pleasure each time. It was just the same as the couple from before, but instead of the older woman’s drooping, floppy breasts, Hermione’s were smaller and more full, bobbing in rhythm. He focused on the freckle on the side of her breast, reaching up to caress it, and she pressed his hands against her in approval while she slammed into him harder.

Draco watched her above him, truly believing she was a Goddess, and hoping he could last as long as she wished. He obeyed when she leaned down to pull him forward to sit him up, kissing him as she did. Gripping her arse, Draco cradled her against himself as she positioned her legs tight around his torso and he thrusted harder into her. Grasping his neck to help her ride him, Hermione hummed with pleasure as Draco kissed her lower and took her nipple into his mouth. She rocked her hips against him, willing him to continue.

Her tit slipped out of his mouth when she arched herself backward, and he held her lower back as she stretched her arms out as if to worship the sky. Her hair fell back onto the wooden platform, shimmering in the glow of the fire as he thrusted into her. Gazing at her arching body as he pumped his hips against hers, his climax begging to be unleashed.

"Oh, Draco..."

She flung herself forward to hug him tightly, digging her fingernails into the back of his neck. He groaned at the change in position, thrusting deeper inside of her, while the cult members mimicked him, too. They had begun to sound like a choir of well-orchestrated chanting and wailing, echoing into the night.

Hermione pressed her forehead against his, her hot breath a whisper against his lips. Between her panting, she murmured against his mouth, and he tried to decide who was speaking to him now. "I've always wanted to know what you would be like..."

He closed his eyes and gripped her tighter, wondering if Hermione had really thought that way, and for how long.

"Draco, we're both being used tonight..."

He quickly looked up into her eyes, scanning them to interpret her meaning. It _was_ her.

She gave him a peck on his lips, then reveled, "I can feel _her_ . I can feel _you_ . I can feel _everything_."

Inwardly, Draco admitted that this was the best he had ever had, possibly because of his longing for Hermione, or possibly because of the Goddess within her. Probably both.

Her legs loosened around him while her knees spread out further and he held her tight, continuing to pump hard and fast into her dripping slit. Under the moans of the echoing cult was the muffled sound of flesh furiously clapping against flesh.

Breasts bouncing rhythmically from his slamming into her, Draco could sense Hermione tightening around his arousal as her body began to stiffen. Her fingers crept up the nape of his neck, threading into and gripping his hair. Then, her head fell back in pleasure; the cult swiftly moaned, repeating her rapture.

Draco's lips parted as her elation swiftly uncoiled, the compression of her center encouraging his release. With one last plummet of his cock, he expelled himself into her with a long, growling hum. The feeling was immense and lasted longer than he had ever remembered. He held her tight, quivering with pleasure as he pulsed more of his release into her.

The chanting figures repeated their sounds over and over, winding down to an eerie silence. Draco clung to her tightly, breathing hard into her neck, not wanting to let go.

But Hermione began to lift her head, her fingertips petting his back softly, her lips against his ear. "Thank you, you were perfect."

Draco had a difficult time concentrating, but he guessed that it was not Hermione speaking to him just then.

There was a breeze that took a way a bit of the heat between them, and caused Hermione’s body to relax in his hold. Keeping her head down, she stiffened again a moment later, appearing ashamed when she mumbled into his collarbone, "Draco, I- I don't know what to say..."

He huffed, relieved that she was entirely Hermione again, but found that he too was not sure of what to say. He did not regret it, and hoped she didn’t either. They both peeked up at each other shyly, and then turned toward the hooded figures illuminated against the dimming fire.

Casually, the cult began to turn toward one another, nonchalantly chatting softly amongst themselves and mingling as if nothing momentous had just occurred. The two of them looked back at one another, each slightly confused, until a cloaked figure stepped toward them, gently placing their wands onto the wood platform and propping Draco’s broom against it. Clasping her hands and bowing, "The Mother Goddess is pleased. She has gifted a part of her unto you. As long as you are true, it can be like this again. You may go now."

Hermione and Draco quickly looked at one another, wondering just what that had meant. Before they knew it, the cult members were releasing the protective enchantments around the area and diffusing the large fire. One at a time, they disappeared into the woods and back out, obtaining brooms now. Then, like a flock of ducks, they all soared across the blood moon, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

As Draco stared up and watched them all leave, Hermione studied him. Sensing her gaze, he loosened the grip he had forgotten he had on her and they moved apart, sitting naked beside each other. Draco cleared his throat. "Granger, I'm sorry, that- I didn't know- but when you touched me, I- I just couldn't-"

She shook her head. "I know. I _wanted_ it though. It's like She gave me the power to open up to you. I… I enjoyed it."

She attempted to fix her tousled hair and leaned to kiss him softly, which he reciprocated with relief. Ignoring the coolness of the night, they opted to lie down next to each other on the platform, still naked, and staring into the stars above, taking it all in.

He reached over to lace his fingers through hers and tilted his head to look at her. "So, next date… _you_ choose."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this story, it would not have been at any sort of quality if it were not for the determined, and clever beta editing done by HeartOfAspen.


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